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A • 



























THE MERRYMAKERS 




























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B<3 

Louise A>t\es Qahnett 



With Pictures B<5 

James McCracken 

I\and McNallv & Company 
Chicaqo 


Copyright , iQiS, 

By Rand McNally & Company 


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© Cl. A 5 (J 1 6 if 7 


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SEP -3 uul 


To 

My dear Mother's granddaughter, 

Gloria, 

with “ penny-colored hair” 

(i who is, also, my own little girl) 





































Let's hurry off to Pudding Lane 
And go a-Muffin shopping 



)E pictures 


Here ’s a list you can ’t resist — 
Not a picture should be missed! 


PAGE 


Loud and long the bugler blows, 

Straining from his crown to toes. 

Title Page 

Let ’s hurry off to Pudding Lane 

And go a-Muffin shopping. 

Frontispiece 

And grooms were posted breathlessly 

For good old Doctor Foster. 

Eleven 

And all those grooms took to their heels, 

So fierce he looked and hostile. 

Thirteen 

And Muffin after Muffin ate, 

Nor cared how much they cost her. 

Facing Fifteen 

And now the golden Coach we see. 

Hurrah! Hurroo! Hididdle dee! 

Seventeen 

The King and Queen say, “Howdy do, 

Dear sir, and all the rest of you.” 

Nineteen 

The King is so amused he gives 

The Dame his jeweled garter. 

Twenty 

The footmen carry in the Shop 

Two dozen empty baskets. 

Twenty-one 

The cheery Woman of the Shoe, 

With children by the dozen 

Facing Twenty-two 

“Come, Polly, put a Muffin in,” 

The Muffin Man invites her. 

Twenty -five 

Instead of pigs Tom brings with him 

His pet, the Fiddling Cat. 

Twenty-eight 

Miss Muffet trips sedately with 

No fear of bug or spider. 

Facing Thirty 

Now Jack and Jill come on the run, 

All out of breath and full of fun. 

Thirty-three 


7 


PAGE 


“A jolly crowd," he says, “composed 

Of cats and clowns and bakers." 

Thirty-seven 

We stop and by the road behold 

Three Kittens white and furry. 

Facing Thirty-eight 

Four-and-twenty Tailors in 

A terror-stricken flight. 

Forty-one 

We meet the Snail beside the road 

Her little horns outspreading. 

Forty-three 

At that the birds come circling down, 

One lighting on the Kingly crown. 

Forty -five 

The Queen sinks down beside the pair 

And hugs them to her then and there. 

Facing Forty-eight 

Away they speed, their horses’ shanks 

As fleeting as a rascal’s thanks. 

Fifty-one 

He lifts wee Janie in his arms, 

The Queen takes little John. 

Fifty-three 

The man falls on his knees. He speaks: 
“Have mercy!" 

Fifty -five 

Upon the way we pass a Maid 

A-hanging clothes to dry. 

Facing fifty-eight 

Here Goosey Gander comes in sight 

With most convincing waddle. 

Sixty-one 

The Pretty Maid with stool and pail 
Appears and gives us friendly hail. 

Sixty-three 

To Castle Halls we romp and rollic, 

Full of antics parabolic. 

Sixty-five 

A pair of pages enter with 

Their faces glad as gold. 

Facing Sixty-eight 

And slowly raise the upper crust 

Delectable and porous. 

Seventy 

In a voice as gay as brass 

He sings these jolly numbers: 

Seventy-five 

Within the Shop the clock’s two hands 

To north and south are spreading. 

8 

Seventy-nine 


MmWMAKERS 

To-day the weather is so fine 
I cannot keep from hopping. 

Let’s hurry off to Pudding Lane 
And go a-Muffin shopping. 

Hippety-hop to the Muffin Shop 
For better things than candy. 

Don’t stop to wash your face and hands 
And be too spick-and-spandy! 

The Muffin Maker’s Muffins are 
The best of all confections 
And to the Shop to purchase them 
Come folk from all directions. 


The young ones on their ponies ride, 
Or in perambulators, 

Or pick-a-back, or on shanks’ mare 
With flying heels and gaiters. 

The old ones come in carryalls, 

Or hasten on their crutches. 

The tall, the short, the thick, the thin, 
From beggar boy to duchess, 

Go hastening to Pudding Lane 
Intent on one ambition: 

To buy a Muffin, hot and sweet 
And buttered for nutrition. 

They say Miss Muffet’s Mother’s Aunt 
Lay sick-a-bed in Gloucester 
And grooms were posted breathlessly 
For good old Doctor Foster. 

Now, it was raining cats and dogs, 

And where d’ye think they found him? 
10 



Stuck fast in mud up to his belt 
With thunders crashing round him! 


They threw some ropes beneath his arms 
And pulled with grit and gumption! 
While Doctor Foster shook his fists 

Reviling their presumption. 

11 


By then ’twas raining kits and pups 
(For milder was the weather), 

When shouting, “One, two, three, now pull!” 
The grooms pulled all together, 

Until at last, by might and main, 

They dragged out Doctor Foster, 

And he was like a huge mud pie, 

The crustiest in Gloucester. 

He railed at grooms from east to west, 

That good old man so kindly, 

Then north and south, and up and down, 
And forward and behindly, 

And when his breath and strength were gone 
He twitched an outraged nostril, 

And all those grooms took to their heels, 

So fierce he looked and hostile. 

And when they told the Doctor’s plight 
How sad the situation, 

12 



For no one else knew how to aid 
The Muffets’ sick relation! 


Then suddenly Miss Muffet cried, 
“Oh, fiddlesticks and stuffin’s! 

Let’s take her to the Muffin Shop 
And fill her full of Muffins.” 

13 


From off her bed they took the Aunt, 

They laid her on a litter, 

And sixteen horses’ hoofs rang out 
With clitter-clatter-clitter. 

They dashed full speed, they whinnied loud, 
Nor ever paused a minute 
Until they reached the Shop. The Aunt 
Was quickly carried in it, 

And Muffin after Muffin ate, 

Nor cared how much they cost her, 

And well and sound and full and round 
Returned that day to Gloucester. 

How fast we’ve come! Our feet have flown 
O’er grass and walk and cobble stone, 

And something says inside of me: 

How nice it is that IV e are iV ?. 

Now one more turn and we will gain 
The darling street of Pudding Lane. 

14 



Nor cared how much they cost her 




































































* 























































































And here we are — behold the Shop, 
There, where so many people stop! 

Oh, listen to the stirring sound 
That makes the very cobbles bound! 
It is the Bugler heralding 
The coming of the Queen and King. 


The Bugle Call 



How cheerfully the people shout 
And spin each other round about 
And toss their hats high in the air 
And cry, “Long live the Royal Pair!” 

See the eight white horses prancing 
And so fearlessly advancing! 

See the pages on their ponies 
Proud and fine as macaronies! 

15 


And now the golden Coach we see. 

Hurrah! Hurroo! Hididdle dee! 

I’m glad I’m standing on my head 
Or surely I would burst instead! 

The horses with a curvet stop 
Before the little Muffin Shop, 

Where hasting swiftly as he can 
Appears the beaming Muffin Man. 

He opens wide the golden door 

And smiles and bows and smiles some more. 

The King and Queen say, “Howdy do, 

Dear sir, and all the rest of you.” 

“We’re proud and pleased, Your Majesties,” 
The Muffin Man is saying, 

“That to the Shop in Pudding Lane 
A visit you are paying.” 

At this with friendly nod, the Queen 
Arises to our shouting 
16 



And now the golden Coach we see. 
Hurrah! Hurroo! Hididdle dee! 


And says, “We hope each one of you 
Will take a happy outing. 

“I promised but a week ago 
I’d tell the King about you 
And I was sure that he’d agree 
We could not do without you; 

“So you must come and spend the day 
In our beloved Castle 


17 



And, as I said, we’ve brought you each 
A cap and golden tassel.” 

Oh, how we clap our hands and dance 
We caper and we frolic 
Until the wee-est baby here 
Begins to cry from colic. 

We give her just a crumb or two 
Of Muffin specked with butter, 

And not another single cry 
That child is heard to utter. 

The gallant King descends to say, 

“In all of my existence 
I’ve never eaten Muffins with 
So little of resistance. 

“ I never felt so much a King 
As when I had devoured one, 

And all I ate were fine and sweet 
With not a single soured one. 

18 



The King and Queen say, “ Howdy do. 
Dear sir, and all the rest of you ” 


“Now with my sword and royal word, 

0 goodly Muffin Maker, 

1 here declare you are a Knight, 

And name you Baron Baker!” 

“Ah, sire! I’m thinking,” says a voice, 
And there stands Mother Hubbard, 


19 






The King is so amused he gives 
The Dame his jeweled garter 


“’Tis I who should be Baroness 
For barren was my cupboard.” 

The King is so amused he gives 
The Dame his jeweled garter, 

Who fastens it around her Dog 

From which you could not part her. 

20 



The footmen carry in the Shop 
Two dozen empty baskets 


The footmen carry in the Shop 
Two dozen empty baskets 
And Muffins, like Aladdin’s gems, 
Will fill those royal caskets. 


The Mothers and the Nurses get 

Their little chicks together, 

21 


And all the Grandmas and the Aunts 
Converse about the weather, 

But looking at the glad blue sky 
Admit there’s no denying, 

If present signs remain, the clouds 
Won’t even dream of crying. 

The cheery Woman of the Shoe, 

With children by the dozen, 

Brings all of them. She says, “The Lane 
Is like a hive a-buzzin’ 

“With busy bees all eager for 
A chance to store up honey, 

And where is there another place 
So sweet as this and sunny?” 

John Sprat (called Jack for short ) and Wife 
Have hurried on their way, 

And puffing close behind them is 

The Fat Man of Bombay. 

22 




The cheery Woman of the Shoe, 
With children by the dozen 









He’s Mrs. Sprat’s own cousin and 
At present smokes a pipe 
That could not possibly be thieved 
By any sort of snipe. 

It’s full three feet from east to west, 

A foot from north to south, 

And now and then huge rings emerge 
From out his ample mouth; 

Or through his nose there comes a stream 
Of countless smoky twists 
As long as Mr. Sprat’s lean shanks 
And thick as his two wrists. 

A. band of boys and girls are always 
Tagging at his heels, 

Impatient for the Fat Man’s rings 
As big as wagon wheels. 

Here’s Kitty Fisher, bless her heart! 

And with her Lucy Lockett 

23 


Who carries Muffin pennies for 
Them both within her pocket. 

“I’ll hold the ‘ribbon carefully. 

I’d be a perfect goosey 
To let’ it drop again,” declares 
The Locketts’ prudent Lucy. 

And here is Polly Flinders with 
Her burnt clothes mended neatly, 
Who warmed her pretty toes to-day 
By running far and fleetly. 

“I didn’t give my breakfast,” she 
Asserts, “a chance to settle, 

But rushed away, just stopping long 
Enough to fill the kettle. 

“It’s ‘Polly, put the kettle on,’ 
Whenever I’m around there, 

Or, ‘Take it off again,’ so. for 
To-day I’ll not be found there.” 

24 



“Come, Polly, put a Muffin in,” 
The Muffin Man invites her, 

And curtsying she says she will, 
A plan which much delights her. 

Here’s patient Peter Piper who 
Picked pepper, pure and pickled. 

25 


A peck he picked, a pretty pile, 
Preposterously prickled. 

No one has ever known where all 
That pickled pepper went to. 

Sh-h-h! not a word — he ate it. 
Though he truly had not meant to. 

He’d take a taste, and then one more, 
As if ’twere sweet and plummy, 

Till all the pickled pepper was 
Reposing in his tummy. 

Poor Peter! how he hopped about 
And danced the sailors’ hornpipe, 

But nothing soothed that pickled peck, 
Not e’en his fav’rite corn pipe. 

He rocked himself from side to side; 
He stood upon his cranium; 

He walked upon his hands till he 
Was red as a geranium; 

26 


He blew the bellows down his throat; 
He emptied his carafe — 

I’ve told you many things he did 
Yet have not told the half— 

And when he’d nearly given up 
He chanced to get a Muffin 
And straightway did it pacify 
His peck of pickled stuffin’. 

’T is Peter made the sayings from 
His woes, sae sair and mickle: 

“I’ve found a peck of trouble,” and 
“I’m in a perfect pickle.” 

Thomas, his son (called Tom for short), 
Has grown so fine and big 
He would not dream of running off 
With someone else’s pig. 

He and his father like to come 
For Muffins and a chat. 


27 



Instead of pigs Tom brings with him 
His pet, the Fiddling Cat 

Listen! The Cat begins to play. 
Watch all the people dance, 

And hear the horses whinny as 

They shake their heads and prance. 

28 




“Oh, what a jolly fiddle-dee!” 

The King of Hearts is saying. 

“I’ve never heard such rousing tunes 
As Pussy Cat is playing.” 

“They itch the heels and poke the ribs, 
And sing hey-diddle-diddle.” 

“It always is like that,” says Tom, 
“When Pussy plays the fiddle.” 

Jack Jelf is coming; crotchety 
He used to be, and surly— 

Almost like Rufus Rotchety, 

So bumptious and so burly — 

But someone gave him Muffins and 
Insisted he devour them, 

Since when his smiles will not come off 
No matter how you scour them. 

He’s bringing with him, by the hand, 
His little friend, Prue Plumpling, 

29 


As rosy as an apple and 
As dimpled as a dumpling. 

Miss Muffet trips sedately with 
No fear of bug or spider, 

Intent on getting Muffins to 
Be entertained inside her. 

Now Simple Simon comes in sight; 

The Queen at once espies him 
And cries, “Here is my little friend! 

I surely must surprise him. 

“The roads are fine for riding and 
But seldom steep or stony. 

Ho, page! Dismount that Simon may 
Bestride your spanking pony.” 

How happy is young Simon as 
He hops into the saddle! 

He slaps the reins, throws out his chest, 
And loudly calls, “ Skedaddle /” 

30 



Miss Muffet trips sedately with 
No fear of bug or spider 






Away the little pony flies, 

His mane is wildly waving, 

His tail is horizontal, so 
Unruly he’s behaving! 

Away goes Simon’s old straw hat! 

He almost sheds his breeches 
And has to hug the saddle tight 
As if his legs were leeches. 

But, strange to say, when Simon speaks 
The single word, “Skedoodle!" 

That pony slacks, his speed and turns 
As quiet as a poodle. 

“Amazing!” cry the Royal Pair, 

“He’s never shown such spirit. 

What was the word that mastered him? 
We did not plainly hear it.” 

But Simon shyly shakes his head 
And flashes out his dimple. 

31 


“It is a secret,” he declares — 

Which shows he’s not so simple! 

Now Jack and Jill come on the run, 

All out of breath and full of fun, 

For Jack had rolled down hill from laughter 
And giggling Jill had tumbled after. 

“It was another tale,” laughs Jill; 

“ This time we tumbled on the hill. 

I think we must have learned the knack!” 
“That’s what we have,” says sturdy Jack. 

“Now, let’s away!” the Queen exclaims. 

“We can’t invite you by your names, 

But come, each Mother’s Son of you.” 

“And Daughter,” chirrups dimpled Prue. 

“Of course!” the King says hurriedly 
(He says it almost worriedly). 

“Although I ’m not averse to noise 
I’d rather have the girls than boys.” 

32 



“Well, boys for me,” the Queen laughs out. 
“But let us start!” There is a shout 
And everybody hurries up 
As if competing for a cup. 

They first o’erflow the royal Coach, 

A golden car beyond reproach; 

33 


Then girl and boy and maid and man 
Pile high the festive Caravan. 

The Caravan is big and bright, 

With hulk of red and spokes of white, 
And paneled sides with painted scenes 
Of gnomes and elves and fairy queens. 

Around the scenes are fine enamels. 

A dozen strong Egyptian camels 
Are harnessed to this dashing car 
Prepared to draw it fast and far. 

Their legs are long and they can stride 
With ease o’er all the countryside. 

Oh, camels are delightful things 
For Circus Managers and Kings! 

The King has asked the Muffin Man 
To chaperon the Caravan, 

And every guest bound for the Castle 
Wears a cap with a golden tassel. 

34 


The caps, are made of different hues 
The prettiest ’twere hard to choose! 
Like rainbows broken into shreds 
They look upon the bobbing heads. 

There never was such jollity 
As we display at starting. 

The bugle toots, the children shout 
No sorrow at this parting! 

The dogs begin to follow us, 

At least a dozen Fidos, 

And as the Cat his fiddle plays 
I’ve never seen such didoes! 

The horses and the ponies dance 
And cut a thousand capers 
Until they’re like the comic sheets 
That come in Sunday papers. 

And every Fido spins around 
The opposite of lazy, 


And all of us rock back and forth 
As if we were gone crazy. 

“Halt, Pussy Cat!” the King commands. 
“Please lay your fiddle down, sir. 

I cannot stand such exercise. 

I’m sure to lose my crown, sir.” 

The cat obeys His Highness but 
He makes his whiskers stand 
As straight and stiff as any wire 
Outstretched by human hand; 

And ’cross them does he draw his bow 
With slow and heavy paw, 

And such a noise I never heard 
And surely never saw ! 

We stick our fingers in our ears 
And laugh as if possessed, 

But certainly the King of Hearts 
Laughs more than all the rest. 

36 



“A jolly crowd,” he says, “composed 
Of cats and clowns and bakers. 

I have a thought— come! let us call 
Ourselves The Merrymakers.” 

“The very thing,” cries Mrs. King. 
“It suits to a T-Y-ty, 

37 


And each of us must laugh his best 
Till time for bed and nighty.” 

Bo-Peep is riding near the front 
Excitedly she waves her crook; 

Then suddenly she stops and cries, 

“ Behold — good people— look ! 

“Upon that hedge I surely see 
Some lamb-tails hung to dry. 

Another shepherd there must be 
As careless as was I.” 

We stop and by the road behold 
Three Kittens white and furry. 

Angelic smiles upon their lips. 

Their voices soft and purry; 

And Three Blind Mice beside them sit 
Upon their little haunches, 

Whose pleasant looks undoubtedly 
Mean cheese crumbs in their paunches. 

38 



We stop and by the road behold 
Three Kittens white and furry 





They’re happy since their tails were shorn 
By Carver sharp and frightsome. 

They used to get them caught in traps 
And now they feel so lightsome! 

Bo-Peep, descending to the hedge, 

Expects to see lambs’ nice tails, 

But finds three pairs of mittens and 
Three slender little mice-tails. 

The Cat-who-plays-the-Fiddle had 
Me-owed when he espied them. 

The Kits are his. They ’d washed their mitts 
And on the hedge had dried them. 

These Kits and Mice are bosom friends, 

As close as cronies could be, 

And just as Mice and Kittens oh, 

So seldom are, but should be! 

We ask all six to come with us. 

Bo-Peep takes down the mittens 

39 


And clean and dry they clothe the paws 
Of three delighted Kittens. 

The tails Bo-Peep begins to plant. 

Says she, “We’ve all seen cat-tails 
So why not give these mouse-tips here 
A chance to grow to rat-tails?” 

We drive a little farther when 
We see a funny sight: 

’Tis four-and-twenty Tailors in 
A terror-stricken flight 

One has a goose (a Tailor’s iron) 
Another bears some shears 
That look as if in one quick snip 
They’d cut off Giants’ ears. 

One has a yardstick good and stout, 

One bears a ripping knife, 

And each has this or that with him 
To guard his precious life. 

40 



Four-and-lwenty Tailors in 
A terror-stricken flight 


So scared a crew I Ve never met. 

I stare, a perfect gawk, 

To see those Tailors’ faces white 
As slabs of tailors’ chalk. 

“What ho!” the Muffin Man exclaims. 
“Why look you sad and pale?” 

41 


“O Sir! we went upon a quest 
To try to kill a Snail. 

“But when she thrust her horns at us 
And looked us in the eye 
The only thing for us to do 
Was right about and fly. 

“I wish I’d hit her with my goose.” 
The Muffin Man says, “Cease! 

Instead of Tailors twenty-four 
You’re five-and-twenty Geese.” 

As we depart we see them all 
Discuss the incident 
And scratch two dozen heads because 
They wonder what he meant! 

We meet the Snail beside the road, 
Her little horns outspreading. 

She’s so amused she shakes her sides. 
Her very shell near shedding. 

42 



We meet the Snail beside the road 
Her little horns outspreading 


We ’re loath to leave this merry soul 
Whose horns so quaintly plume her. 
’T is seldom that one meets a Snail 
With such a sense of humor. 

As we are hasting on our way 
Two birds appear and near us stay. 



They circle o’er us round and round; 

They flash their wings; they skim the ground' 

They fly before us for a space, 

Then arrow back with eager grace; 

They utter cries to reach the heart; 

The horses, even, neigh and start. 

It is not long before the King 
Observes our friends of feathered wing 
And says, “My darling,” to the Queen, 

“A stranger pair I’ve never seen. 

“There’s purpose in the way they act: 

I’d stake my crown upon the fact.” 

At that the birds come circling down, 

One lighting on the Kingly crown; 

The other with a joyous peck 

Leaves kisses on the Queen’s white neck. 

“My dear,” she cries, “you best of men, 

This is my neighbor, Jenny Wren, 

44 



“And sure as beggars come to town 
’T is Robin Redbreast on your crown. 

Dear little winged friends, what mean you? 
’Tis fortunate indeed we’ve seen you.” 

And now the birds fly off again, 

Red Robin and his Jenny Wren. 

45 


Excitedly they swoop and antic 
Like storm-tossed craft on mid- Atlantic. 

“They wish to lead us,” cries the Queen. 
“Ho, little guides, the fields are green, 
The sun is kind, the roof is blue — 

Lead on! lead on! we’ll follow you.” 

Then swift as space can swallow them 
And fast as steed can follow them 
The birds swim through the golden air 
Conducting us we know not where. 

The camels go with lengthening stride, 
The horses gallop glorified, 

And all in Coach and Caravan 
From Mouse to Master Muffin Man 

Can scarcely wait to learn the cause 
For breathless speed without a pause. 
We sit on edge; our necks we crane; 

We watch with all our might and main. 

46 


The birds now lead us to a place 
Well wooded, near an old mill race, 

And with prodigious cheep and flutter 
They try their very hearts to utter. 

“ T is here we stop,” the King cries. “Quick, 
Dismount! The timber is so thick 
We cannot drive within.” The birds 
Appear to understand his words 

And twitter loudly as we speed 
With running footsteps where they lead. 

We surely make a droll procession 
As through the forest paths we press on. 

At last our guides with frantic cheep 
Whirl round and round about a heap 
Of berry leaves that make a mound 
Upon a clearing in the ground. 

And perched in all the nearby trees 
Are birds by hundreds whence the breeze 


Bears melancholy little notes 
From all that choir of little throats. 

Now to the ground they dip, and fling 
The leaves aside with bill and wing, 

And soon reveal the woeful sight 
Of two young children, still and white. 

Again the birds begin to sing 
With drooping head and folded wing. 

Our eyes are full of tender tears 
To see these two forsaken dears. 

But even as we look a sigh 
Escapes the boy, and with a cry 
The Queen sinks down beside the pair 
And hugs them to her then and there. 

“You Babes in the Wood!” we hear her croon; 
“You precious lambs! We’ll rouse you soon. 
They’ve swooned from hunger and from fright 
To be alone in such a plight.” 



The Queen sinks down beside the pair 
And hugs them to her then and there 




















-■ 







































































Q, HI 























































































_ 















































We get some water from the race 
And gently wet each little face, 

Then down their throats we force some more 
And truly ’t is not long before 

The boy gives one or two slow sighs 
And opens his bewildered eyes; 

While soon his comrade does the same. 
Calling him feebly by his name. 

“John! O John! O Brother dear!” 

“Yes, Jane,” he answers her, “I’m here.” 

The Muffin Man says, “We must seek 
Some food. They’re famished now and weak.” 

At first we don’t know where to look 
For wholesome food; there seems no nook 
That we may search, nor dare we wait 
To find it. Then the Queen in great 

Delight cries, “Haste, you pages! Bring 
Some Muffins! ’Tis the very thing!” 

49 


Away they speed, their horses’ shanks 
As fleeting as a rascal’s thanks. 

They’re back before a soul can say, 
Jack Robinson ! The Queen cries: “Stay! 
Go slow at first— a little taste, 

For too much hurry stands for waste.” 

So crumb by crumb the Babes are fed 

Until a tiny hint of red 

Begins to show in cheek and lip. 

The birds, ecstatic, soar and dip 

And sing until the forest rings 
With carols from the happy things. 

We scatter crumbs to west and east 
And Babes and Birds together feast. 

The King cries out, as low he stoops 
The childish pair to scan: 

“These little ones belong to my 
Dead cousins, John and Anne! 

50 



Away they speed, their horses’ shanks 
.As fleeting as a rascal’s thanks 

“They, dying, gave them both to James 
With tender words and prayers, 

Who vowed he’d guard, as though his own, 
His brother’s baby heirs. 

A goodly fortune they received 
But should they chance to die 

51 


Their uncle would inherit all.” 

The King gives forth a sigh. 

“I see the plan! The children were 
A stumbling-block to James. 

He loved their money only.” “O, 

Poor lambs!” the Queen exclaims. 

“He left them here,” the King goes on, 
“Within these woods alone, 

Hoping they’d die so he could have 
Their fortune for his own.” 

“O cruel!” cries the Queen. “With your 

Consent we two shall be 

Father and Mother to these Babes.” 

The King says, “I agree.” 

He lifts wee Janie in his arms, 

The Queen takes little John, 

And both the Babies cuddle close, 

Their faces glad though wan. 

52 . 



The birds are singing mightily, 
Their busy bodies bobbin’, 

But gladdest, maddest of them all 
Are Jenny and her Robin. 

“O what a happy world is this! 
How dancing is the weather! 

53 


Our hearts,” says Master Muffin Man, 

“Are all mixed up together.” 

As back we climb within the Coach 
And painted Caravan 
We hear the bushes crackle and 
Observe a crouching man. 

“Stand forth!” the King calls, and there comes 
In view a quaking form 
Whose pallid looks and air of grief 
Denote an inward storm. 

The King starts when he sees him. “James!” 
He cries. The Queen is still 
But holds John closer as her eyes 
With sorry teardrops fill. 

The man falls on his knees. He speaks: 
“Have mercy! It is true 
I wronged the Babes, but I returned 
My sinning to undo.” 


54 


She man falls on his knees. He speaks: 
“ Have mercy l" 

“We’ll hear your story,” says the Queen. 
The wretched man begins: 

“I’ll give you truthfully my tale 
Of greed and other sins.” 

And then his story he relates. 

The King had guessed aright: 

55 



He longed for wealth and was resolved 
The Babes should die this night. 

But when he’d thought of little John 
And pretty baby Jane — 

Their lisping speech, their darling ways — 
His tears had dropped like rain, 

And to the forest he had come 
Distracted with alarms, 

Hoping to find the Babes alive 
And hold them in his arms. 

“James,” says the King, “I’ve heard your tale 
And keenly watched your face, 

And I’m convinced your heart has won 
A close and toilsome race. 

“You’ve sinned, yet you’ve repented 
For the wrong you meant to do. 

We’ll punish you no further. Go, 

And goodness stay with you.” 

56 


James hangs his head, then raises it 
To say, “O noble King, 

I thank you deep and fervently.” 

The birds begin to sing, 

And, as he leaves, the children wave 
Their hands and call, “Good-bye.” 

“You precious darlings,” cries the Queen, 
“’Tis good you did not die!” 

And now we’re off. A singing cloud 
Of gladness is above, 

For all the birds accompany us 
With friendly chirps of love. 

By posting hard we finally 
Approach the Castle Gate 
And through it with a merry dash 
We drive in royal state. 

“Hurrah!” we cry. “Hip, hip, hurrah! 
Hoop-la and zippety-zan! 

57 


Hurrah for the Queen! Hurrah for the King! 
Hurrah for the Muffin Man!” 

So many things we wish to see 
We scarce know where to start 
Till Humpty-Dumpty calls, “I choose 
The barnyard for my part.” 

And like a lot of silly sheep 
We gaily follow after, 

Filling the air with skips and jokes 
And much light-hearted laughter 

Upon the way we pass a Maid 
A-hanging clothes to dry, 

And see a Bird as black as jet 
About her shoulders fly. 

He pecks her lips for kisses and 
He rubs her cheeks of rose, 

But best of all he likes to play 
He’s nipping off her nose. 

58 



Upon the way we pass a Maid 
A-hangmg clothes to dry 







Beneath a haystack fast asleep 
A Boy lies, dressed in blue. 

His smock is blue, his eyes are blue, 

I think his dreams are, too, 

For he is crying, “Run, sheep, run! 

The wolf has chops of red.” 

“Wake up,” Bo-Peep calls, shaking him, 
“Don’t be a sleepy-head!” 

A little pony roams about 
As gentle as a dove. 

He whinnies when he sees the Queen 
And gives her hand a shove. 

She says, “You shall belong to John 
And Jane. Mind what they say 
And bear them safely on your back 
You dear old Dapple-Gray.” 

Upon him do the children climb 
As proud as Chinese Princes, 


And Dapple-Gray, with careful step, 

His happy pride evinces. 

We reach the barnyard where we hear 
A long, triumphant cackle. 

Little Black Hen, who’s laid an egg. 
With joy doth fairly crackle. 

“0 cluck-cluck-cluck ,” she gaily shrills, 

“ 0 cluck-cluck-cluck-cu-da-cutt. ’ ’ 

She means, “My eggs, some nine or ten, 
Are ready now for ma’ket.” 

Here Goosey Gander comes in sight 
With most convincing waddle, 

Who, when he sees the Muffin Man, 
Begins to bow his noddle 

And say, "Honk! honk!" so earnestly 
And with so much uprightness 
The Muffin Man extends his hand 
To match him in politeness. 

60 



Here Goosey Gander comes in sight 
With most convincing waddle 


“My good old friend, you used to stop 
For Muffins in the Muffin Shop. 

I give you greeting, Master Goose.” 
“Honk! honk!” he says as big as Moose. 

At this a Little Dog laughs out 
To see such manners hereabout, 

61 


And wears a grin so long and wide 
You know it has its start inside. 

“Bow-wow!" he barks, excitedly; 
“Bow-wow!" he booms, delightedly; 

And as his tail he madly wiggles 
You know it’s but the way he giggles. 

The Pretty Maid with stool and pail 
Appears and gives us friendly hail. 
“Where are you going?” we all inquire. 
“To milk the Cow in yonder byre. 

“She has a kick of so much spirit 
The maids and men around here fear it, 
And when she jumps you ought to see 
How everyone prepares to flee. 

“They say that once she felt so jolly 
She did her wildest piece of folly: 

Upon a tranquil night in June 

She jumped right o’er the yellow moon. 

62 



The Pretty Maid with stool and pail 
Appears and gives us friendly hail 


“So now most everybody feels 
A trifle timid of her heels. 

I seem the only one who knows 
Just how to pat her shiny nose, 

“And how to whisper in her ear 
The things that cows delight to hear, 

63 



And how to praise her coat of silk. 

And how to coax her creamy milk. 

“Now I must go or she’ll be cross. 

Coo, Boss!” she calls, “coo, Boss! coo, Boss!” 

As Pretty Maid is lost to view 

There sounds a mild and plaintive Moo. 

We leave the yard amid a chorus 
Of grunts and squeals and clucks uprOar’ous. 
The sun dial says it’s well past noon 
And so the King calls, “Luncheon soon!” 

There’s not a bit of use pretending 
We’re sorry that our fast is ending. 

To Castle Halls we romp and rollic, 

Full of antics parabolic. 

The Cat begins to play his fiddle. 

You’d think our feet were on a griddle. - 
We leap-the-frog! we march! we jig! 

We spin around like a whirligig! 

64 


To Castle Halls we romp and rollic. 
Full of antics parabolic 

The Cow kicks out a hinder hoof 
And jumps clear through the stable roof. 

In vain the Milk Maid calls, “Coo, Boss!” 
The Cow is making caper-sauce. 

A Dish, infected by the fiddle, 

With cold lamb gravy in its middle 

65 


In which a Spoon is sticking tight. 

Rolls merrily in headlong flight. 

This surely is a merry-go-round, 

So fast they whirl along the ground. 
Over the hills and away they spin, 

An earthen dish and a spoon of tin. 

Over the hills and away, tra-la! 

The Little Dog laughs a droll ha-ha! 

We all join in till the day resounds 
With affable, laughable, chaffable sounds. 

We stream into the Banquet Hall 
And how we clap our hands and call! 

I give my word that splendid room 
With hearts by hundreds is a-bloom. 

It’s like a giant Muffin Shop, 

As if it grew and could n’t stop. 

A table runs from door to door 

With hearts behind and hearts before, 

66 


And on it — if my words had wings 
I might describe the luscious things. 

Just think of what you like the best: 

Fruits from the East; game from the West; 

Nuts from the North; flowers from the South; 
Pickles to tease and screw your mouth; 
Sweets of every kind that’s made; 

Gallons and gallons of marmalade; 

A glad array of jelly tarts 

Baked by the lovely Queen o’ Hearts; 

But best of all we like to see 
The Muffin baskets, full and free. 

The King delights to make a speech. 
“Friends, welcome,” he commences. 

“We hope you’ll find a pleasure here 
For each of your five senses; 

“For by and by — ” The Queen says, “S-h-h-h!" 
And pulls his sleeve, then reaches 

67 


Up on her toes to whisper, “Let 
Them eat; they don’t like speeches.” 

“Ahem!” the King says doubtfully, 
And on he goes ahemming 
Until the Queen cries, “Sit you down 
At this there is no stemming 

The tide of eatables that flows 
To every guest that’s present. 

And how we sample this and that — 
A task not half unpleasant! 

And when we’ve eaten nearly all 
The goodies we can hold 
A pair of pages enter with 
Their faces glad as gold. 

They proudly bear upon a plate 
As broad as you are high 
A most inviting, spanking good, 
Gigantic kind of Pie. 


68 



A pair of pages enter with 
Their faces glad as gold 







The King gets up to make a speech. 

“My friends,” he doth begin it, 

But here the Queen says, “S-h-h-h, my dear! 
They’d rather see what’s in it.” 

We stare wide-mouthed the while the Pie 
Is carried to the table 
And placed there in the silence that 
Succeeds our former babel. 

The pages bow to right and left, 

Salute their royal master 
(They take their time impressively: 

A snail could move much faster) 

And slowly raise the upper crust 
Delectable and porous, 

Revealing Birds as black as night 
That sing in joyful chorus. 

Two dozen Birds — I counted them — 
Wide-stretch as many bills 

69 



And countless merry trills. 

Such jet-black Birds I’ve never known! 
Such Pie I’ve never seen! 

Such sunny tones I’ve never heard! 

So glad I’ve never been! 

70 


The King has pockets full of rye 
With which to feed his pets. 

He gives them each eleven grains, 
And hear the thanks he gets: 

Song of the Pie 



Kouk kou ka - ree Kouk kou ka - ree 


i-e — 4 J / 

•ill 

H J 


n 

A d m. ? i 


d > 

e, 

/ II 

rev) a a a u f Zi a J 11 

P U 4 4 4 9 9 9 9 4 9 J LI 

^ r p p C 

r r r p ? 



Kouk kou ka - ree, Kou ka - ree. 


71 


“Good!” cries the King. “I love a song; 
Who’ll let me hear one other?” 

“You sing,” says one. “No, you,” says one. 
“No— yew,” says still another. 

And so it goes until at last 
The Muffin Man calls Tom. 

“I’ve found the lad who’ll sing,” says he; 
“Observe him take the palm.” 

So out steps Tom with laugh and bow 
As cool as six cucumbers, 

And in a voice as gay as brass 
He sings these jolly numbers; 

The Pig Song 


With enthusiasm. 



1. I nev - er had but one Kg, one Pig, one Kg, I 



•The air is suggestive of an English folk tune. 


72 




-p 


— V — 

— ^ N - 

-\ — • 

=x= 


— r S Ps & 1 — 

^ ill 


? — 

9 — 

— N r 

9 rv- 

* i _ 

9 • 

9 

0 0 9 * 9 

d - H 


was - n’t more than so big, And ver - y fond of hay. 



73 





2 . 

I took him to the city, city, city, 

I took him to the city to find what he would 
bring, 

When Piggy, what a pity! pity! pity! 

When Piggy, what a pity! decided to take 
wing. 


3 . 

He flew around the comer, comer, comer, 
He flew around the comer and through the 
Court House Square. 

I never felt forlorner, lorner, lorner, 

I never felt forlorner or fuller of despair. 


4 . 

I chased him up an alley, alley, alley, 

I chased him up an alley and through a broken 
gate. 

We did not dilly-dally, dally, dally, 

We did not dilly-dally for it was growing late. 

74 



I chased that Pig by moonlight, moonlight, 
moonlight, 

I chased that Pig by moonlight until the break 
o’ day, 

And after that ’t was soon light, soon light 
soon light, 


75 


And after that ’t was soon light and still he 
ran away. 

6 . 

I chased him up a steeple, steeple, steeple, 

I chased him up a steeple and through the 
village church. 

We scared away the people, people, people, 
We scared away the people and left them in 
the lurch. 

7 . 

I chased him through the ocean, ocean, ocean, 
I chased him through the ocean till we were 
good and wet, 

I’ve learned perpetual motion, motion, motion, 
I’ve learned perpetual motion: that Pig I'm 
chasing yet. 


When Tom has finished, all of us 
With heartiness of feeling 

76 


Sing loud and long The Muffin Song, 

A deal of love revealing, 

And when we reach the closing lines 
So rollicking and jolly: 

0 tir-ro-lo-lee, 0 tir-ro-lo-lee, 

0 tir-ro-lo-lee, lo-lolly. 

The Muffin Man says, “Come, chicks, come. 
We must not stay forever, 

And yet the memory of this day 
Will never leave, no, never.” 

Then to the singing Caravan 
And to the Coach so golden 
We troop, our hearts in gratitude 
To King and Queen beholden. 

And when the drivers crack their whips 

And we are really starting 

We call “Good-bye! good luck to all!” 

And wave our hands in parting. 

77 


Faster we go and faster still 
Till in the twilight tender 
With sheep bells tinkling, up the Lane 
We dash in gallant splendor. 

Before the little Muffin Shop 
Our steeds are blithely halted 
And out we climb still gay of step. 

Our spirits still exalted. 

We pat the horses kind farewells, 

We stroke the camels shyly. 

Give each a Muffin just to show 
That we esteem them highly. 

We chirp good-byes to all the birds. 

To drivers, ponies, pages. 

Then off they go like lightning streaks. 
Or Mr. Spendthrift’s wages. 

Within the Shop the clock’s two hands 
To north and south are spreading 

78 



As six clear strokes reverberate, 
Another hour unthreading. 


And that the Dark may see itself 
When night-time really comes, 
We place a candle on the sill, 
Then wander to our homes. 


79 


And the Lighted Candle Sings 




80 


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